


The Summer After

by elisi



Series: Maybe Someday [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/pseuds/elisi
Summary: A few weeks post-NFA, Giles gets a surprise visit from Spike and Angel (and Illyria).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of my first ever fics, written in 2004. It became a whole 'verse in the end, but this was the start.

_London, England_

 

He never saw it coming.

The cold, hard fist hit him squarely on the jaw, leaving him sprawled on the well-tended grass of the cemetery.

Looking up through the pain, he saw two inky-black shadows hovering over him. Pale faces with cold, hard eyes watched him unemotionally, and he shivered.

The blonde spoke first, his voice low and dangerous: “Hello, Rupert.”

When the Watcher got to his feet, the dark-haired one casually produced a large sword and held it up in the dim light: “You know, I killed a dragon with this,” he remarked. And then he smiled a small smile that flung open long sealed memories...

_A minion was tying him to a chair: “Shall I gag him?” Angelus, examining the edge of a knife, absentmindedly replied: ‘No gag. I want to hear him scream!’_

_And then he had looked straight at him and smiled that exact same smile._

It couldn’t be - could it?

\---------------

_I have to stall them. I have to distract them somehow... the Slayers should be here any moment..._ “So, why are you here?”

Spike shrugged: “Needed a holiday. And our Blue Glory has never been to England - at least not within a few millennia.”

Giles noted the name - _Glory_ \- but why ‘blue’? And were they really here with a hellgod? Of course Angel now worked for Wolfram and Hart....

Trying to sound casual, he replied: “So you’re not alone?”

Angel (Angelus?), replacing the sword in it’s scabbard, answered: “Just because we’ve lost all our friends, doesn’t mean that we’re alone.”

They had lost all their friends? But what could have caused such a thing - Andrew had described Angel’s friends as very loyal... unless....

Going on the evidence in front of him - could they have lost their souls? But how was that possible? Buffy had told him that Spike’s soul had not been a curse... so it stood to reason that he could not loose it. His head began to hurt with more than the pain of the recent punch. 

Then he heard the voices of his Slayers in the distance and relaxed. 

The vampires - obviously picking up on the approaching voices too - looked at each other with something that looked like amusement. Turning back to Giles, Spike spoke again: “You don’t honestly think they’ll be able to kill us, do you?”

Giles looked at him levelly: “I’m hoping it won’t come to that - I don’t know how you lost your souls -”

He stopped at the look on their faces.

“What makes you think we lost our souls, Rupert?” Spike asked, his voice more menacing than Giles could ever recall. “After all, you don’t need to be soulless to be a murderer, do you?”

The man was shocked into silence.

Spike smiled: “You never told Buffy how Ben died, did you Rupert?”

Giles involuntarily swallowed.

“See, we’re all part of the same exclusive club. And we’re as souled as you, Watcher. But all our friends were murdered, the girl we love is fooling around with the bloody Immortal and we’re being hunted down by the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart like animals. So excuse us for our lack of manners.”

At that moment the group of Slayers arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

The large gates to the cemetery creaked as the gaggle of girls pushed them open and wandered through. There were nine of them, sensibly but nicely dressed, and they might have been any group of girlfriends on their way to a club or party, if it hadn't been for the assortment of swords and axes they were carrying, along with stakes tucked in waistbands, or twirled leisurely between fingers. 

Giles turned to face them, but Spike’s words were still ringing in his ears and he found himself momentarily unable to speak.

Then he heard Spike’s voice calling out over his shoulder. “Vi! Well isn’t this a surprise? How have you been? And I see you got a new hat! You know - it pained me that the old one was lost at the bottom of the Hellmouth.”

Incredulously the watcher turned around again, and nearly ended up on the ground for the second time that night.

Spike was smiling, looking as happy and relaxed as Giles had ever seen him, holding out his hand to the flabbergasted Vi whose face was a picture of surprise and wonder.

“S - S - Spike?” she stammered, as he shook her hand, obviously forgetting that she was now the England Head Slayer with an apocalypse under her belt, and looked for all the world like a small timid Potential, meeting a legend.

“The one and only, pet. I’m here with Angel, the other souled vampire champion, who also as it happens is a recent dragon-slayer. Angel, this is Vi, one of the new slayers who fought The First's army.”

“Pleased to meet you Vi,” Angel said, taking her hand when Spike let go of it. 

The other Slayers stood in awed silence. 

Spike looked them over and chuckled. “Well aren’t you a pretty bunch! Come on, don’t be shy... we won’t bite.”

The girls giggled and seemed shaken out of their reverie, and moments later the two vampires were surrounded by Slayers.

 

Giles looked on, unable to move or intervene. He felt frozen in space, as though he was watching a movie. The girls were as star struck as groupies at a rock-concert, chatting, laughing and drowning the two warriors with questions. “Is it true that Buffy dated both of you?” “Did you really kill a dragon?” “How come you’re not dead anymore?”... 

And the watcher suddenly realised where he had seen this spectacle before. The two vampires were like film stars outside a premiere - or presidents campaigning. _They’re working the crowd!_ he thought, and marvelled. He knew Spike could be charming, but Angel - broody, taciturn Angel - smiling and making small talk was unsettling. 

The man sat down a gravestone, and tried to get his thoughts in order. His every instinct and all his training told him to get the hell out of there, but something Spike had said made him waver.

_All our friends were murdered... We’re being hunted down by the Senior Partners..._

Spike was a terrible liar, and Giles was certain that these words had not been a lie. He had heard about the collapse of the LA W&H building a few weeks before and the disappearance of all who worked there, but no one had been able to find out what had happened.

He got up and walked over to the group. “So you don’t work for Wolfram and Hart anymore?”

Angel looked up, face closed. “No.”

And then the vampire turned back to the Slayer he was talking to. 

The watcher sighed and absentmindedly cleaned his glasses. An explanation was obviously not forthcoming.

***

A little while later Spike held up his hands. “Ladies - Slayers! Pleasant as this has been, I’m sure we’re interrupting your patrolling. Plenty of nasties out there just waiting to meet the pointy end of your stakes. We should let you get on - and if you don’t mind, we’d like to borrow your watcher. It’s been a while since we’ve seen him, so a bit of catching up is required. We promise to bring him back in one piece.”

The girls laughed, said good-bye and moments later were on their way, leaving the vampires and the human alone.

“Let’s go,” Angel said, all warmth having left his voice.

They went out the gates, Giles following since there seemed no other option - somehow he had let all the Slayers walk away. “What do they want with me?” he wondered.

As they were walking down the road, a figure detached itself from the shadows under the cemetery wall and came up to them. It’s shape was humanoid - female even, but judging by its eyes and movements there was nothing human about it. 

Unreadable eyes looked him over before the mysterious creature turned to the vampires.

“I see you found the one you were seeking. Do you wish to kill him yourselves or is that pleasure to be mine?”


	3. Chapter 3

The words seemed to echo in Giles’ head. He closed his eyes.

_This isn’t happening. In a moment I’ll wake up and I’ll be at home in my bed and Andrew will call with another unnecessary report, and I’ll do some research..._

He heard a sigh. Opening his eyes he saw Spike looking at the strange creature, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“We’re not going to kill him, oh Vengeful One - what would be the point in that?”

The demon turned from Giles and looked at Spike. “He betrayed you. Death is what he deserves.”

Spike shrugged. “Well, yeah. But considering how many times we’ve saved his life, killing him now would be rather pointless.”

Giles inwardly let out a sigh of relief. But it still left the question of what they wanted him for.

Blue eyes scrutinised him again, seemingly reading his mind. “Then for what purpose did you seek him out?” 

“Well - that’s meant to be a sort of surprise for you,” Spike answered, voice guarded.

The creature cocked its head birdlike, studying the vampire. “A... surprise? I do not understand.”

Angel and Spike looked at each other. There was a slight hesitation, then Spike spoke. “I think we’d better find somewhere to sit down and talk about this in peace.”

Suddenly the vampires and the strange blue demon stiffened. Giles wondered what they had sensed, when a faint growling sound could be heard in the distance.

“Bloody hell!” Spike groaned. “How did they find us so quickly?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Angel replied tersely. “Spike, we’ll go back to back. Illyria, guard the human!”

Seconds later, a large group of demons came around the corner. Giles, trying to remember where he had heard the name ‘Illyria’ before, looked at his diminutive assigned guardian and wondered whether the vampires wanted him dead after all, just not at their own hands.

Intending to call out to them, he turned to see that they now stood side by side, unsheathing their swords in eerie unison. They appeared to be talking to each other, so quietly that Giles could not catch the words. Then the demons charged.

The first minutes were a blur, with Giles unable to see much except Illyria’s methodical slaughter. Apart from being an superior fighter, she(?) seemed invulnerable, swords and axes unable to penetrate her hide. “What exactly _is_ she?” he wondered, as she gracefully broke a scaly demons back, before tearing off its head.

Moments later, a demon - aiming for Illyria - nearly cut Giles in half, so she lifted him up on top of the wall. He felt rather silly, being relegated to spectator, but reason told him that these demons were probably too much for a human. And thankfully they showed no interest in him.

Now at a better vantage point his eyes were drawn to the centre of the fight. Spike and Angel were back to back, fighting with an inbuilt rhythm unlike anything Giles had ever seen before. The Watcher in him wished his Slayers were there with him, to observe what he had so many times tried to explain about teamwork - that if they could act as one, they could defeat nearly any foe. But slowly he became so absorbed that he stopped analysing.

He had fought alongside them many times, and watching them now he wondered what it was that seemed so different. Their synergy was incredible, but not too far from what he had seen Buffy and Spike display. 

As the demon herd thinned out, he realised what it was. Whereas they were both excellent fighters, usually they would display their skills with some bravado - Spike especially seemed to revel in special flourishes - but now their moves were a showcase for pared-down economy. They seemed to take no joy in the fight, and as they killed the last demons he noticed deep fatigue in their movements.

_For how long have they been doing this?_ he thought.

The vampires however did not appear to be in the mood to answer questions, so he climbed down from the wall and stood quietly by himself, waiting for them to finish off anything that stirred before cleaning their swords.

Spike looked up. “Well, I for one could really do with a drink now - if I remember rightly there’s a lovely little pub just down this way. ‘The King’s Arms’ it was called. Stopped by a few times with Dru last time we were here. They ought to remember me - if not I’ll remind them! I don’t feel like paying for anything tonight!”

Angel nodded and they set off down the road, leaving the dead demons where they had fallen. Giles noticed that they were all marked with a symbol of some kind, but it was too dark to make out. Maybe he would be able to come back later and study them. That of course depended on how long Spike and Angel were planning on keeping him...


	4. Chapter 4

After walking down a few alleyways they came to the pub. With its painted brick facade and ‘The King’s Arms’ in gilt lettering it looked like every other pub Giles in London. It was only when he noticed the carefully painted sign above the door that he realised that it was a demon-bar after all: It showed two arms, torn off at the shoulders - one holding a sceptre, the other a globe - with little droplets of blood for added effect. 

He sighed and thought that at least demon bars usually had good whiskey.

Once inside and looking around, Giles noted that English demons - those not hanging out in graveyards looking for a fight with a Slayer - were obviously quiet types. There were a few vamps in jeans and Gap T-shirts playing darts, and some corpulent demons in knitted jumpers drinking (and talking about) Real Ale; but otherwise the pub was empty.

Spike turned to him as Angel and Illyria made their way to a corner table. “So, what can I get you?”

“Double scotch, please,” Giles answered automatically as he took off his glasses to polish them, since the sudden heat had caused some visual haziness. 

He looked up to find Spike studying him critically and finally shaking his head lightly. “Single. And make it last - we need to talk, and for that we need you to be sober.”

And he turned around and walked up to the bar, leaving Giles flabbergasted, but also suddenly illuminated.

Spike had always acted like a rebellious youth. Giles knew that technically the vampire was at least a hundred, but he nevertheless behaved like a cheeky youngster, right down to the irreverent ‘Rupert’. But now...

Putting on his glasses again and making his way to the table where Angel and Illyria were now sitting, his mind was crowded with thoughts. As he looked towards the bar where Spike was chatting with the cheerful barmaid, he might as well have been wearing those magical specs he always dreamed of owning as a child...

_Spike and Angel - in his mind they had always been sort of appendages to Buffy, since it seemed that for most of the time he had know her she’d had one or other of the vampires following her like a shadow. Loyal, loving, but always on the outside somehow - never a part of the gang, never really accepted by anyone except Buffy. Looking at them tonight he saw none of the subordinance they had always displayed around her. They were self-assured and proud, acting in a way he had not seen since the time of Acathla..._

Voices drifted by him. "Now I ‘eard some outrighteous gossip that you and Dru had split up, and I said, 'Don’t come 'ere telling tales!' Never seen such devotion in all my days as you showed your lady..."

“I don’t really know them at all...” he thought and wondered what Buffy would say if she could see them now. Or maybe this was how she’d always seen them...

Lost in thought, Giles was rather startled when Spike put down a glass in front of him. "I s'posse Glenfiddich is OK?" the vampire asked, and the Watcher nodded.

Quietly sipping his drink, Giles absentmindedly observed Illyria as she appeared to be making a complicated, gravity-defying sculpture out of beer mats. Since neither of the vampires seemed fazed by this Giles decided not to say anything, but he began to wonder in earnest what she was doing in their company. He noticed that she wasn’t drinking anything, whereas her two companions were emptying their Bloody Mary’s rapidly.

After Spike had been back to the bar for refills for himself and Angel ("Fancy you a champion - I never would 'ave guessed it! You know - I had another champion in 'ere just the other week, right sombre fella...") he turned to Giles and said pleasantly, "Well, let's talk about betrayal then!"

***

Giles sat up and waited. He had expected this day to come for a long time, but he had always thought that it would be Buffy he'd be having this conversation with. He had known at the time that the plan was desperate, but when Wood had later told him about Spike's threat and Buffy's reinforcement of it, he had known that he was right. She was behaving exactly as she had with Angel, and he had wished to spare her the duty of killing a loved one again.

To his great surprise however, it was Angel who started to speak.

"You might remember, although it is quite a while ago now, the time Faith poisoned me."

Giles nodded, and thought to himself. "Good heavens, how far back do they hold a grudge? And - I had no part in that."

"I believe that the Council was called and asked for assistance, which was turned down."

Giles nodded again.

"Can I ask - since I wasn't conscious at the time - what was your position? Did you believe that the Council made the right decision?"

The Watcher thought for a moment. "I thought that the extraordinary circumstances warranted more than a quick denial."

Angel studied him for a moment, and then continued. "If I had died, would you have considered the Council partly responsible - even knowing that their input could not have helped?"

Giles could not see where the vampire was going with this, but the question was clear enough. "You're asking if wilful neglect could implicate someone in manslaughter - or even murder?"

Nods from both vampires.

The man hesitated. But honesty won out - mainly because he suddenly saw Buffy's angry, desperate face very clearly in his mind. "At the time and in those circumstances, yes, I think the Council would have been partly responsible."

Spike and Angel both sat back in their chairs, their faces unreadable. Then a look passed between them that suddenly made Giles feel as uncomfortable as that first moment in the graveyard.

Angel spoke again, voice almost casual, but the Watcher could hear the dangerous undertones.

“I called you - some months ago now - asking for Willow’s whereabouts. You refused to help me, since The Council didn’t have dealings with ‘people like us’.”

Giles recalled the conversation, but as he tried to remember more clearly what had been said, Spike addressed him, voice frosty. "Well, wouldn't Quentin Travers be proud if he could see you now - how nicely you toe the party line."

Giles turned to him, noting the coldness of the voice, and only vaguely saw Angel incline his head toward Illyria and whisper something.

When Spike didn't follow up on his statement, Giles leaned back in his chair again and with a jolt realised that across the table from him there was sat an attractive young woman - brown, wavy hair falling down over her shoulders, a wide smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes as she held out her hand: "Hi! I'm Fred."


	5. Chapter 5

Giles automatically shook the girl’s hand, but he found himself unable to make any coherent sounds when he tried to ask a question.

The vampires seemed to understand his predicament, because Angel began to explain. “This used to be our friend Fred.”

The Watcher finally managed to find his voice. “ _Used_ to be?”

Another one of those dark, unreadable looks that he was beginning to get very tired of. “Illyria infected her, gutted her from the inside, killed her and took over her body.”

Giles’ confusion must have shown on his face, because after a brief pause, Angel elaborated. “Illyria is an ancient demon God - one of The Old Ones from before the time of the humans. There was a prophecy - _as usual_ \- and she rose as predestined. The fact that she took Fred’s body was somebody else’s doing. Somebody now dead.”

Giles tried to absorb all this information, slowly taking a sip of his drink and letting the rough heat take the edge off the pressure on his mind. A moment later Spike sat forward, placing his elbows on the table as he looked at Giles with eyes that belied his youthful countenance. “This isn’t Fred. Illyria can assume her form, but that is all. Fred is gone. We have no way of bringin’ her back - but that doesn’t mean we didn’t try!”

“The day I called you,” Angel said, as he took up the tale, “Fred had only just died. We did _everything_ to stop it... so far as travelling half way around the world - but we failed. Only death doesn’t have to be the end, as we well know. If you’re powerful enough you can bring back the dead, which is why I needed Willow.”

The vampire leaned forward and fixed Giles with a look so full of anger that the Watcher was taken aback by the sudden force of it.

“And _you_ refused to help! _You_ decided that Fred’s life was not worth fighting for because of ancient laws that you now follow just as blindly as your predecessors... _you_ who should know better. The world isn’t black and white Mister Giles - and it’s no good pretending that it is. Sometimes we have to do terrible things for the sake of good. And once you have blood on your hands, it never comes off, does it?”

Giles swallowed involuntarily, but Angel was far from finished. “Yes W&H are evil - on a scale you might not comprehend - and you had every right to cut your connection with us. Funny how that never came up until you’d used us to capture your psychotic Slayer. And one good turn deserves another - even evil lawyers usually acknowledge that.”

A brief pause, then he continued. “I tried to fight the beast from the inside, and now these two are all that’s left of my team. But -” and the fire in his eyes went out, leaving only weariness, “...we keep fighting, because that’s all we have left.”

Casting a glance at the pretty girl next to him, he spoke again. “We came here and found you for a reason. But before we get to that, we wanted to show you your part in an innocent death, so that you will understand _why_ you will do what we tell you.”

The Watcher felt numb. He tried to wrap his mind around what Angel was saying, but it wouldn’t fit. He also felt a sudden stab of indignation at being held responsible for this girl’s death, when clearly there was nothing he could have done. _Only_ \- the pieces of the two conversations suddenly joined up and... _Damn them._ When did they get so clever? He had admitted just moments previously that refusing help would implicate someone in carrying the guilt. And Willow was certainly capable of bringing someone back from the dead...

But still - he felt indignation rising at being turned into their scapegoat. Would they have given the same speech to Buffy? Except Buffy would of course never have put Angel on hold... He sighed, wishing that he knew what to say, but there were still far too many unknowns for him to formulate a solid defence - or attack. And why _had_ Angel taken the job at W &H?

He looked up and saw that the-girl-who-was-Fred-no-longer was creating another complex composition. She smiled when she saw him looking at her. “There’s something very satisfying about constructing something out of nothing, don’tcha think? I tried to build a model once based on the fractal principle, which is of course not really possible. _But_ if you have enough sticks you can get a good base structure, although it _did_ take weeks and weeks - but then I was very bored at the time. Oh, I should probably explain that this was while I was stuck in a hell dimension called Pylea. But thanks to my brave hero here, I was brought back home again after 5 years of being hunted and living in a cave.” And with a big smile she looked at Angel, whose face was now a stony mask.

Giles noticed that the way the vampires were ignoring ‘Fred’ was very reminiscent of the way Spike had ignored the BuffyBot the summer Buffy was dead... it was obviously too painful a reminder. 

Feeling the need to say _something_ , he tentatively cleared his throat. “When you say there is no way of bringing her back...”

Angel met his eyes and answered, voice more tired than Giles could ever remember. “Fred’s soul was destroyed when-” 

He stopped, shook his head and then reached out, touching the girl’s arm lightly. “Illyria - please change back. Demonstration over.”

She shrugged and a moment later her entire appearance was blueish and alien again.

Just like Glory and Ben! Giles thought - although Ben had been a person in his own right and not just a shadow. He wished he had more whiskey, but understood now why Spike had refused - even with a clear head, this was almost too much. Trying to get his thoughts in order, he asked a question that had been in his mind since he had first seen the strange being. “Why does she travel with you?”

Angel had become immobile, so Spike, after a moment of hesitation, answered - words slow and obviously painful. “Shared enemies. Shared grief.”

Giles understood that this was as much explanation as he was likely to ever get, and silence fell over the table. After a moment, Illyria turned to Angel. “I wish for you to reveal your ‘surprise’ now. I am growing weary of this place.”

Angel nodded. “OK.”


	6. Chapter 6

Giles sat forward nervously, but Angel ignored him completely and addressed Illyria. “What do you know of Watchers and their function?”

“They train the Slayers. They study demons and magic.”

“That’s correct. But they have another purpose as well. It is their duty to chronicle all that happens to the Slayer in their charge, as well as other important stuff - apocalypses or extraordinary incidents and people. They probably have several books about myself and Spike, as we are the only souled vampires in existence.”

Illyria quizzically turned her head to look at Giles, who uttered a garbled confirmation. As a matter of fact Andrew was currently editing the latest one, having begged for two months before Giles finally gave in.

When she turned back to Angel, the vampire continued. “This here is Rupert Giles, the Head Watcher. We wish for him to write down the life story of the man you... cared about. We will make sure that he will impart the... _singularity_ of this man to all Slayers and Watchers, so as long as The Council exists, no Watcher will be honoured above your Wesley.”

Giles inhaled sharply at this announcement, but the blue entity across from him appeared to almost smile.

“Your ‘surprise’ pleases me. This will be a fitting tribute for Wesley. I... _thank you_.” And she inclined her head briefly toward Angel.

Giles watched as Angel cast Spike a happy look and they smiled at each other. After the initial surprise, he felt equal measures of relief and disbelief. _This_ was their great scheme? Write an account of Wesley’s life? He had understood that his former colleague was dead after Spike’s earlier statement, but...

“You want me to do _what_?” he asked, his incredulity obviously showing in his voice, because all three demons turned to look at him.

“Seems pretty straightforward to me,” Spike remarked.

“Em, well, yes - but...” Giles faltered with three pairs of scornful eyes on him.

“You’ll have to cancel all your appointments and other plans of course, but otherwise I can’t see it bein’ too hard,” the blond continued.

“But... _Wesley_?” Giles felt unable to come to terms with what they were asking - the young man he remembered did not seem more than a footnote in Slayer-history. What could he possibly have done to warrant such devotion?

Angel obviously guessed what he was thinking. “Do you remember when Willow was captured by the Mayor? Wesley was against the trading her for the box we stole - he saw that it was crazy to value her life above thousands. And you _knew_ that he was right - that you should look at the bigger picture. _That_ was Wesley’s gift - he, more than anyone I’ve known, _always_ saw the bigger picture! And what’s more, he acted on it - no matter the pain it would cause himself or others. _That_ is the man we want the world to know.”

Giles fell silent. He _did_ recall what had happened then - and two years later. His arguments with Buffy over Dawn’s life. What he had been prepared to do and what he had been forced to do. Spike knew all of this and still somehow thought that Wesley had been the truer Watcher...

He was shaken out of his thoughts when Illyria spoke again. “Will you tell him about Connor?”

A slow nod. “Yes.”

It was now Spike’s turn to look incredulous. “You can’t do that! Seriously - the poor kid will drown in Watchers wanting to study ‘the miracle-kid’. If they believe you, that is. It was a bit of a curve ball for _me_ , and considering my life so far, that’s saying something. I’m glad you told me, don’t get me wrong, but if I hadn’t seen him myself...”

Angel folded his hands on the table in front of him, his face determined. “Giles will be the only one to know... that particular part can be put with all the other top-secret stuff I’m sure they’ve got stashed away somewhere. I just...” He looked up, a strangely helpless look on his face. “I just want there to be some sort of record. God knows how long we’ll last...”

His voice drifted off and he briefly closed his eyes. Then, pulling himself out of the deep seated tiredness that had momentarily overwhelmed him, he finished - voice calm, but determined. “I want someone to know - just in case.”

Spike slowly nodded and ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide emotions Giles couldn’t guess at. “Can’t blame you there. If it was me...” his voice trailed off and for a moment he looked into the distance, eyes lost.

Giles began to suspect that he was dreaming. It seemed like every time he found out one thing, another mystery popped up. He sighed, and decided that he might as well ask. “So who’s Connor?”

The answer almost made him pinch his arm.

“My son.”

Giles nearly laughed, but seeing the proud, stubborn look in Angel’s eyes made the laughter die in his throat.

After a few seconds he turned to Spike. “I think I need another whisky!”

Spike, shaken out of whatever thoughts he’d been entertaining, nodded and waved to the barmaid, and soon a drink appeared on the table.

As Giles nursed his scotch, he half-listened to Spike and Angel’s quiet discussion of where to go next. It would seem they had no place to stay, having only arrived in London that evening.

The events of the last few hours were continually playing themselves out in his mind - later revelations casting light on earlier puzzles. And he realised that he would indeed do what they had asked him to. He was already planning out details and wondering what Wesley’s father would have to say. Also he was becoming curious - what had Wesley done to earn the admiration of the cold, unemotional demon-god across the table. How - and when - had Angel fathered a son? And what had they done at Wolfram & Hart that had cost so many lives?

He thought for a moment, and then made up his mind. “For the purposes of recording this... life story, it would probably be best if you stayed at the Council Headquarters.”

Two heads turned to him, their faces questioning.

“At _The Council_?” Spike asked, laughter and disbelief mingling in his voice. “You sure about that Rupert?”

Giles tried to ignore the way the vampire still managed to annoy him, even when he wasn’t trying, and answered as calmly as he could. “We have extensive guest accommodation - I think you will find it quite sufficient.”

But for reasons he couldn’t understand, they didn’t appear very keen. Spike shot Angel a look, and the older vampire, after a moment’s hesitation, asked, “You mean we can just walk in?”

Suddenly illuminated, Giles answered. “Well, Willow set up a mystical barrier, but a small incantation should be all that’s needed to let you pass through.”

Angel looked incredulous. “You mean it’s that easy? No shamans? No supernatural alarms? No mind readers? Not even an empath demon or a Seer? Please tell me that at least you have security cameras.”

Noticing the look on Giles’ face, Spike chuckled. “You were at Wolfram & Hart too long, mate! Not everyone is as paranoid as evil lawyers.”

Angel shook his head. “I spent four years breaking in and trying not to get captured before I took over the place. They were _thorough_ and rightly so! _You_ ,” he jabbed a finger in Giles’ direction, “are the Head of The Council of Watchers, with countless Slayers at your disposal. Don’t you think there are a good few demons out there who’d like to see you and your organisation gone?”

Giles was speechless - being lectured on security by Angel was something he’d never envisaged.

“Not to mention the fact that the three of us are amongst the most wanted fugitives of the demon world. The Council would be under siege within days.” 

Shaking his head, Angel continued. “We have contacts in town. We’ll find somewhere to stay, and tomorrow I’ll call in a few favours and get your place made thoroughly secure. We’ll see you then. Spike, Illyria?”

And in one swift motion the three of them were gone, leaving Giles alone at the table. It happened so quickly that it was almost as though they’d ‘gone poof’ as Willow would have said. Demons indeed. He had forgotten that and tonight had been a timely reminder. The two vampires were not ‘tame’ as he had sometimes thought to himself with a chuckle - a little humble, a little outside the Scoobies tight circle. There had always been a feeling that they didn’t really fit, and therefore were more expendable - and more willing. 

But tonight... tonight they had talked down to him, the way elders have always addressed their juniors. Spike’s ‘Rupert’ had not held any of the cheekiness that it had previously, when the vampire had behaved like a rebellious youth. Now it was merely a way of addressing him - with a bit of contempt added for good measure.

Giles finished the drink, but didn’t get up although he could see that the place was closing. The vampires were extracting their darts from the board - the game seemed to have involved seeing how many darts would fit in the bullseye - and the barmaid was wiping down the tables. She left his until last, and when she took his glass ventured a question. “’Scuse me, but what with Spike now bein’ a Champion - does this mean that he’s saved the world and stuff like that?”

Giles nodded hesitantly. “Em, yes... several times actually. Angel too, I should add.”

This caused obvious delight. “Ooooh, fancy that! Do you think I should get a little sign up or something - y’know like the blue plaques they have on houses where famous people were born?”

Giles felt unable to come up with a reply, but she had already left, busy planning a way of making her pub famous.

They had saved - or at least helped save - the world... he didn’t even know how many times. They had lost their lives, their friends, their home and now there was a price on their heads - but... they were still fighting. They had come all the way back to England to honour a dead friend and a demon god travelled with them because she saw them as something resembling equals.

And with a shock he suddenly realised that Buffy had been right that night. That she had seen a different person to everyone else, when she looked at Spike - someone Giles had only found out existed tonight. As for Angel... He had been very surprised to learn that Angel had taken over Wolfram & Hart, but now he could see the ruthlessness that had probably always been there, but that only Angelus had drawn on in the past. Although it also proved what he had always suspected - that Angel was not so different from Angelus as Buffy wanted to think. He knew next to nothing about what had happened to Angel since he'd left Sunnydale, and Spike's decision to stay with Angel was even more puzzling. What was their purpose? What kept them fighting? So many questions, and hopefully he'd get some answers soon. They were players - but what was the game? 

_Champions indeed_ , he thought, as he made his way out of the pub and saw that morning was near. He remembered standing by a crater one bright day, and wondering out loud, “I don't understand. Who did this?” And Buffy had answered, a note of quiet fondness and pride in her voice: “Spike.” 

_I should have known then_ , he mused. _Hopefully I’ll not be so dim in the future._

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel & additional stories still to come.


	7. Prequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place a few days before the main story.

It was a beautiful summer evening. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon a while ago, the shadows were lengthening and Roger Wyndam-Pryce sat in his office translating an ancient text while his wife did the washing-up in the kitchen. He was absent-mindedly debating with himself whether he should ask her to make coffee or tea, when there was a knock at the door.

His wife, knowing full well that he didn’t want to be disturbed when he was working, went to answer it. He could hear her exchange some words with whoever was at the door, and a moment later she tentatively opened the door to the study. 

“I know you don’t want to be disturbed Dear, but there are two American gentlemen and a young lady at the door, wanting to talk to us. They say it is about Wesley.”

Roger sighed. He had been expecting this day for years now. Foolish young men who failed spectacularly at their allotted task, bringing shame on the family, and who then went to work for a vampire - a _vampire_ of all things - pretending they were demon-fighters or investigators or some such nonsense, were bound to end up on the wrong side of the law. The only mercy was that the whole thing was taking place in America, so hopefully he would be able to hush it up.

“Show them into the sitting room Myrtle,” he said, and noted with irritation that she was still holding a tea towel in her hand. The woman sometimes showed no sense of proper behaviour!

A little while later he was shaking hands with the young lady who had introduced herself as Miss Burkle. A most attractive woman he thought approvingly, wearing a plain, black dress and smiling shyly. He looked up to greet her companions and couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him - _in his own sitting room!_ \- stood the two most notorious vampires of all time. 

Faltering for a moment due to the shock, he rapidly pulled himself together. He was still a good fighter, but he knew that he could not take them both at the same time. He looked at Angelus and said stiffly:

“If you spare my wife, I shall not resist.”

The vampire sighed and looked pained. 

“Mr. Wyndam-Pryce we are not here to kill anyone. We need to talk to you and your wife. Feel free to bring out as many crosses and stakes as you like if that will make you more comfortable. But please listen to us.”

Myrtle was looking from one to the other trying to understand.

“Roger dearest, what is the matter?”

He turned to her, his momentary fear turning to cold anger.

“It very simple, darling. You let the two most dangerous vampires on record into our home!”

Myrtle looked as though she was about to faint, but the blond vampire reached out a hand to support her and sat her down in an armchair. When she looked at him with obvious confusion he smiled reassuringly:

“We also happen to be the only two souled vampires in the world, fighting on the side of good. I am sorry if we frightened you Mrs. Wyndam-Pryce, that was never our intention.”

She nodded, but could obviously not think of anything to say. Roger turned back to his visitors.

“Well, why don’t we all sit down, and you can tell me what is so very urgent that you have come all the way from America to tell me!”

The vampires and Miss Burkle having seated themselves on the sofa, Roger stiffly sat down in his favourite armchair, warily eyeing his visitors. Unaccountably, Angelus turned to Myrtle instead of the head of the household and began to speak:

“As you might have guessed, I am Angel. Your son worked for me since he was thrown out of The Council. I am sorry that I am going to be the one to tell you this, but... Wesley’s dead.”

***

Spike watched the woman closely. Her heartbeat was erratic, and living with the old ogre had obviously taken its toll. How she would react to the news of her son’s death was anyone’s guess. To his surprise she didn’t seem as shocked as her husband. She was fighting back the tears, but she didn’t appear too surprised.

“He... he called a few weeks ago and said that a big battle was coming. I asked him to be careful, but...” she started sobbing.

Her husband, almost more astounded at her words than those of the vampire, turned to her.

“Wesley called and you didn’t tell me?”

In between sobs, she stammered.

“He just said that - that he loved us, and hopefully everything would go well - he would give me a call when it was all over. But - but - every day that went by had me more worried. Mr. Angel - how did he die?”

Angel looked at her and recognised the pain in her face.

_My son is gone! I can’t get him back!_

He spoke to her gently, ignoring her husband, who was thankfully quiet.

“He was killed by a very powerful sorcerer named Cyvus Vail. We - my team and myself - were trying to stop an apocalypse.”

He thought for a moment, then continued.

“Your son was the most loyal, the most honest man I have known. He never shied away from the hard decisions and he was a brave and cunning fighter in battle and in life. He died a hero, Mrs. Wyndam-Pryce. You should be very proud.”

She smiled gratefully, but her husband wasn’t impressed.

“When you say ‘trying’ would that imply that you failed, _Mr. Angel_?”

Angel felt the air pressure change as the vampire to his left and the goddess to his right abruptly turned their heads. Knowing that he had to stall them before their impulses made them attack, he shot Spike a glance and put a hand on Illyria’s arm, making her momentarily stop. He knew how to get to the man across from him. Smiling pleasantly, as though discussing the decor of the house, he began.

“Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, as I suppose you know I spent a hundred-and-fifty years perfecting the art of destroying a human being. The artistry thrilled me. In the end this caused me to be cursed with a soul. And I recoiled from my former behaviour. But if I had met you say - two hundred years ago, I would have greeted you as a fellow craftsman.”

Looking steadily at the man across from him, he continued.

“I preyed upon the weak and damaged, but the two are not the same. Wesley was damaged - by you, the person who should have loved him no matter what, because that is what it means to be a father. _But_... he was not weak! Your abuse was a test of fire, and he came out stronger. You despised him, because he was never good enough - or so you thought. As a matter of fact he was better than you ever imagined. I cannot tell you everything that has happened in the last few years, but I want you to know that Wesley was the backbone that held things together when I failed. Who wasn’t loyal to _me_ , like you presume, but _always_ to the greater good. He was ready to do - and _did_ \- anything when he thought he was right.”

Angel stopped for a moment to think. He desperately wanted to get through to this man the level of his son’s commitment. _He stole my son. He killed you. He..._

Angel realised that Roger had thought him finished and was replying, the coldness of his voice barely disguising the anger.

“You _dare_ compare yourself to me? You presume to know what it is to have a child? The arrogance you possess might only be surpassed by the foolishness that my failure of a son was capable of! He wasted his life-”

His rant was cut off by the sudden failure of all light sources. As the room was plunged into darkness the young woman across from him rose in a chilling, fluid motion, her features changing, and she seemed to glow from within. Her eyes - now icy blue - unblinkingly fastened on the elderly man, and she started to speak, her voice deep and shivering with anger.

“Mortal man, more worthless the smallest worm - how _dare_ you look down upon what is above you! In your life you have achieved _nothing_ , except to father a son who won the favour of ME - _Illyria_ \- a God older than you can fathom. I - _Illyria_ \- who despise the feelings and lives of this useless race of men, grieved for your son, and adorned his grave with the broken and mutilated body of his killer. I will _never_ forget him and so he will be remembered when the last of your species is dust!”

Roger was for once completely overwhelmed and unable to utter a single syllable. Wesley had some months ago sent a letter mentioning an Old One, named Illyria, and asked if his father might look up any information. He had done so, but never passed on what little he had found out knowing that The Council was not talking to Wolfram & Hart. Suddenly he saw the request in a new light. Tearing his eyes from the blue wraith in front of him he looked at Angel, who suddenly seemed like an ocean of sanity.

“Is..." he croaked out.

Angel nodded and answered coldly.

“Yes, this is indeed Illyria, one of the Elder Gods. Didn't you hear of a disturbance at the Deeper Well? She came forth as was predestined, and took as her body the woman Wesley loved. Sir, you _did not_ know your son.”

Roger tried to swallow. His eyes were drawn back to the goddess in front of him. She however had turned her head and was now looking at the vampires.

“I wish to kill this man. Would this have incurred Wesley’s anger? He killed him himself.”

Spike answered, quietly.

“When Wesley killed his father, there was a reason. This time there is no reason except your feelings and the man’s blindness.”

Illyria swivelled her head around and looked at Roger again. 

“I would kill you if it were not for Wesley’s memory. If you ever dishonour him again, my vengeance shall be swift.”

With these words she walked out, the lights turning themselves on again as she did so.

***

Roger dimly became aware of his surroundings and the whimpers from his wife’s direction. He ignored her and focussed on Angel, trying to organise his thoughts into a coherent question.

The vampires, however, were also getting up. Spike went to Myrtle’s side and talked to her, too softly for Roger to hear. 

Angel was silently studying Roger and after a while spoke again. “We are on our way to see Rupert Giles. We will tell him of Wesley’s death and make sure that the events of his life are written down for all generations of Watchers and Slayers to study. As you witnessed, an Elder God found him worthy of the highest praise. He died trying to stop an apocalypse - the apocalypse of the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart, which is a far greater thing than you could imagine. I lost all my people except Spike and Illyria.”

He stopped briefly, then added.

“We came here because of Wesley, not for your sake. If you wish to learn who your son was, I suggest you ask Mr. Giles to lend you the book about him once it is written. Good evening, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce.”

Turning to Myrtle, demeanour changing, he said quietly. “Mrs. Wyndam-Pryce, I am sorry for your loss.”

With these words he joined Spike at the door and left.

 

Roger Wyndam-Pryce was standing in the middle of his sitting room, feeling that his entire world and all its absolutes had collapsed in one fell swoop. He gathered his wife into his arms and let her cry for their son. Their son, who had earned the respect of a goddess... 

A strange feeling began to overwhelm him, a feeling he had decided to banish many years ago - regret.


	8. Andrew Gets A New Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This very silly drabble is set a few days after the main story.

“Spike?!”

The two vampires halfway up the stairs stopped and turned as Andrew came running after them.

“I can’t believe it! How come you’re here at Council Headquarters?”

Watching the boy racing up the stairs, Spike suddenly smiled mischievously: “Andrew! ‘Fraid I have no time to talk at the moment. But Angel here has some cracking stories to tell - did you know that he killed a dragon?”

“A _dragon_?” Andrew breathed, his eyes lighting up in adoration.

And as Spike ran up the stairs, three steps at a time, a gloomy Angel was faced with his first groupie.


	9. A round of 'Kick the Riley'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: A week or two after the events of the main story.

Spike wasn’t sure how late it was. Except very - he was beginning to feel the first twinges of dawn starting to tug at him. Didn’t care though. Wanted to stay right where he was. Wanted more alcohol. Sweet, sweet alcohol, that had made his troubles fly away like... like... bats! There was something about bats and vampires, wasn’t there? He couldn’t remember.

All he knew was that he was in a pub - a real, proper English pub - so he must be in England. And that he was here with Angel, who was the best, most sensible mate a bloke could ever want. 

For some reason - now lost in a hazy, drunken mist - they were talking about Riley Finn. Or rather he was talking, since Angel didn’t know the wanker. But he was more than eager to find out - couldn’t get enough of hearing about how useless the guy was. Oh, Angel was a right bright fella!

“So then...” Spike frowned, trying to remember where he had come to, before it all came back in a rush, slightly taking him by surprise. “Yeah, so then, right - I see him sneaking out of the house! Leaving Buffy’s warm, comfy bed. Now who’d do such a thing?” He looked at Angel meaningfully and shook his head and Angel followed suit. This wasn’t a good idea however, and made Spike feel dizzy. 

More drink - that would sort it out! Angel had obviously come to the same conclusion and was gulping down the contents of his glass, as eagerly as if it was fresh virgin blood.

After the steadying influence of the top class whiskey, Spike felt able to continue:

“Remember that vamp-house downtown?... Back in Shunnydale? The one where they gave suck-jobs? Well, guess where Captain America spent his allowance? That’s right! Was even more of a stupid git than I thought. Buffy wasn’t too impr...pressed either. And _then_ \- then the bastard takes off! Leavesh her high and dry. Bloody coward, that’s what he was!” He scowled at Angel, who companionably scowled back: “Coward...” 

He tried to say more, but Spike wasn’t finished: 

“Now see _me_ \- I had sort of the same problem the next year - cause y’know, she was sleepin’ with me, but didn’t love me or nuthin’... but did I give up? No I didn’t - I went and got my bloody soul back, didn’t I? But soldier-boy... soldier-boy who had a real chance with her, he just quit! Couldn’t cope. Was never man enough for her anyway!”

He picked up his glass again, but realised with a sad sense of doom that it was empty. “Gone...” he said and looked up at Angel, wallowing in the misery of a glass devoid of alcohol and past failures: “Now if I hadn’t had that chip in m’head I’d have beaten him up right proper. Deserved a beating...”

Angel was staring at him, more alert than he’d been for hours: “I beat him up! I came to Sun... Sun... Sunnydale once and I beat him up. The idiot thought I’d slept with Buffy and lost my soul.” 

He giggled, then tried to look inside the empty bottle on their table to work out if there was more drink hiding somewhere within.

“You beat up Riley Finn?” Spike asked slowly, as sudden feelings of warmth and happiness flowed through him.

“Yup!” Angel replied, grinning.

Spike stared ahead, carefully considering what Angel had said. Then he looked his grandsire deep in the eyes:

“Angel?” he said solemnly.

“Yes Spike?”

“I think I might have to kiss you!”


End file.
